Dies Heaven have Backstairs?

Does heaven have backstairs?

If so, then they are made out of despairs and prayers.

They would start in a garden full of flowers, which cowers under a bleeding sky. Black clouds pass there by and no flower there is afraid to die.

The wind is playing a chime, and the leaves are dancing divine, maybe with a smile and everything knows the world lies within a trust and a try.

There is a humming in the air. A tone from the alone.

Or is it more like a groan? It's coming through a wound and hiding in the bone.

The sound of the hurt is made in the war of loss.

In which a prayer is shot and some are sacred and unknot melting on a cross.

Love is a bullet and the gun is pain.

It's the feelings which remain, as the garden full of lovely flowers.

In the face of a grace that glowers, with eyes to keep someone entwined in.

Is living a sin?

Asked the Devil in mind. As he was the only one blind.

Like thorns on the Flowers of Love which grew out of sin in a clemecy supremacy of a complete warmth within.